


A twig with your name

by Madita1908



Category: The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel - Michael Scott
Genre: 4th December, Advent, Christmas, F/M, Love, St Babara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:33:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madita1908/pseuds/Madita1908
Summary: (Headcanon)Joan loves the christmas season and its traditions
Relationships: Francis Saint-Germain/Joan of Arc
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	A twig with your name

**Author's Note:**

> Hey lovelies!  
> I hope you are well?  
> This story is again a translation. The tradition I wrote about is one, some people do in Germany. Idk if you have such things in your country!  
> Let me know!

Awakened by the winter sun, Francis blinked beside him. The other half of the bed was empty and already cold, so Joan was already up. As usual.  
Stretching his tired muscles, the Count of Saint-Germain took his time waking up completely. In his mind, he made plans for the day. _Finish the new song. Going to_ _the studio. Call Steve._ Steve was his manager and by now the only person, beside his immortal friends, who knew he was married.

Looking to his wife’s side of bed, he saw that her blanket was neatly folded at the end of the bed, in contrast to his own, which was halfway on the wooden floor.  
As usual, it fell completely to the ground, as he got up. Careless, the count threw it back onto its original place. Order wasn’t one of his strengths, it never had been. _“I should learn to keep things in order,”_ he thought, as he made his way into the warm bathroom. The immortal noticed how silent the house was. Normally, Joan would have turned on the radio, because she liked the classic music which was played by the local radio program.

After following his morning routine, which included taking a shower, shaving and got dressed – Joan kept joking about this routine because she was the more practical of them – the immortal went down to the kitchen.

The breakfast table was plentiful, but his wife was nowhere to be seen. _“Sometimes”,_ the count thought, _“I think she is a ghost.”_  
Thoughtfully, he went to the window and finally saw Joan, who now turned her back on the cherry tree in the garden and made her way back into the house. Her breath was a cloud in frond of her. Francis made a note in his head to wear his hat today. “December is cold this year”, he thought. Even through he couldn’t feel the cold any more, thanks to the stolen fire magic, he felt a cold chill rolling down his back.  
Moments later, Joan was at the backdoor. He could hear her hummed an old song and quickly opened the backdoor gentlemen like for her.

With a warm smile, Joan of Arc entered the kitchen with an armful of twigs and let him kiss good morning on her cheek.  
"I am surprised you are already awoken by this time”, she said in a joking voice, putting the branches down on the counter next to her.  
"Well, my dear, you don’t have to wake me up for breakfast every day. What are you doing with those branches?" He answered in the same tone of voice.  
"I will put them into water, what else?" The woman started to sort through the branches.  
Francis shrugged, his face a little sad. "I think it's weird, you just cut them from the tree. I am sorry to tell you, but they're probably not going to bloom."  
Joan laughed at this statement in combination with her husbands’ face. “It’s an old custom, to cut cherry branches or similar St. Barbara Day you and put them into the water. On Christmas day, the branches will bloom with a bit of luck", Joan explained as she filled a tall vase with water and then carefully arranging the twigs until she was satisfied.

Even though they knew each other for over a century now, Francis was still aware of the knowledge of his wife. There was always something to learn. "I have heard of Barbara's Day, I know the story of Barbara of Nicomedia, but this custom is new to me”, he answered then, hugging his wife from behind, “But I like it."  
"If you say that it means a lot", Joan chuckled clearly enjoying his embrace.  
"You know, back then, unmarried women have hung signs with the names of promising young men on the branches”, she described, “If the branch withered, the man was out of play. If it bloomed, it was worthwhile keeping an eye on that man."  
"Oh, that's how it works", Francis said with a chuckle, letting go of his wife, "I hope you were sure of me even without this lovely tradition."  
"Of course. You made such an effort to persuade me", Joan replied as she put the vase on the table. "I'm sure there would have been no better branch than that with your name on it." She turned around, smiling at him. Francis moved closer to her, his hands around her waist.  
"And there is certainly no better woman than you." Gently, he leant in, kissing her. She kissed him back, lovingly and passionately.

Then they sat down at the table and enjoyed their breakfast on St. Barbara's Day.


End file.
